


Before the Storm

by Griddlebone



Category: Mighty Morphin Power Rangers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Female Protagonist, Prequel, Romance, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griddlebone/pseuds/Griddlebone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Kimberly Hart would rather learn sword fighting and archery than forge a marriage alliance for her family, but her father has other ideas for his only daughter. Too bad a young man named Tommy Oliver is about to turn both of their plans upside down...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Girl Meets Boy

**Author's Note:**

> _Before the Storm_ is the prequel to an as-yet unposted story; it has nothing to do with my other fantasy AU, _A Divine Conspiracy_.

Kimberly ran as fast as her feet could carry her, skidding into place among the young warriors of Torhart at the last possible moment. Her tardiness earned her an amused look from the boy beside her, but she was not late enough to earn a reprimand from the arms-master. Out of breath and sweltering in her leather armor under the fierce summer sun, she stood as tall and proud as her petite, fourteen-year-old frame would allow, and had to resist the urge to grin as everyone present failed to recognize her.

She could not remember the first time she had buckled on a set of boiled leather armor and had taken to the practice field disguised as a boy, but by now the game, as she had come to call it, had become old habit. The game: convincing her father that she attended the martial demonstrations each summer as befitted a young woman of her rank and family standing, when in reality she spent most of her time brawling with the boys.

It was amazing that she had managed to get away with it at all, let alone for as long as she had. Of course it helped that she had a willing accomplice in her uncle Stephen, the arms-master, but it still shocked her the way people only saw what they expected to see. They looked at her and did not see Kimberly Hart, the only child and heir of his lordship Bertran Hart of Torhart. They saw only another nameless, common boy seeking to distinguish himself on the field of battle and earn a place among the men of Torhart.

Her only regret was that the deception could not last much longer. It had been easier when she was younger. Now it was becoming more difficult to disguise her figure and find armor that would fit her, and her father's cronies had begun checking daily for the first flowering of her womanhood. She dreaded the coming of that day. When that day arrived, her fighting days would be over for good. On that day, she would be legally old enough for marriage.

As the arms-master walked the line, pairing off boys of similar size and ability for the first round of fights, Kimberly tried not to think of what the future might hold. She was experienced enough now to know that if she let her focus wander from the fight at hand, she could easily lose a match. She did not want to lose a match. Not yet, anyway. She would lose eventually, on purpose, because winning would mean revealing her identity, but she would acquit herself well first, as she did every year.

To her surprise, she did not recognize the boy that Uncle Stephen paired her with. She had trained with and fought against most of the local boys before, and knew many of them from her day-to-day life as the heir of Torhart, but this boy was a stranger to her. His helmet obscured most of his face, but his eyes were surprisingly intense. For a moment she feared he could see right through her disguise and realize that his opponent was no boy at all, but then he simply nodded his head with a competitor's respect for an adversary, and turned to watch the first match from their age group.

While he watched the match, she watched him. He was quite a bit taller than she was and had the muscular build of a warrior, so she could only assume they had been matched for skill. She recognized the crest embossed on his armor as the Oliver falcon, though his armor was plain brown rather than the green-and-white of that family. She did not remember the Olivers having a son in her age group, but they were not on good terms with her own family and she generally only heard word of potential suitors, not boys that her father considered totally unsuitable for his daughter's marriage bed. She was surprised her father was allowing an Oliver boy to participate in the demonstration at all, even though any boy, even a peasant's son, was supposed to be allowed to join the games, so long as he could scrape together a set of armor and a sword.

Their turn in the ring came soon enough. Kimberly returned her opponent's respectful bow and waited to draw her sword until the arms-master gave the signal to begin.

The Oliver boy was good with a sword, and fast, faster than she expected, and with a reach several inches bigger than her own. Beating him was going to be tough, but she had confidence that she could do it. He might have been very well trained, that much was immediately obvious, but so was she. And no matter how fast he was, she was faster and more agile.

She skittered around him, testing his skill and reach as she went, looking for weak points. Sweat gathered unpleasantly on her face and in her hair, but she knew she could not afford to be still. If she quit moving, he would have her. With that in mind, she slipped past a particularly brutal slash, intending to get past his guard and draw first blood before he had another chance to attack her, becoming aware too late that it was only a ploy. By the time she realized what was happening, he had already caught her with his free arm and wrestled her to the ground.

He pinned her to the dirt for the required five seconds, letting her up as soon as the arms-master announced that the match had been won. "Nice fight," the Oliver boy commented politely. She let him help her to her feet despite the intense desire to spit in his face. Nobody had ever beaten her that easily before.

As she walked stiffly away, nursing her wounded pride, she decided that she hated him. Whoever he was.

Kimberly made her way quickly through the crowd clustered around the fighting ring. Since she was the loser, no one paid any attention to her. When she was free of the crowd she made her way carefully through the fair of tents spread out over the rest of the field, careful to avoid catching anyone's eye as she went. After she reached the edge of the fair it was only a short jog to a nearby stand of trees and the hidden corner where she had stashed her regular clothes.

She was still seething several minutes later as she emerged from her hiding place, still working on pinning her hair up beneath her hat in her hurry to get back to the gaming grounds. She might be dressed as a proper lady now, but she was feeling anything but ladylike after her loss in the fighting ring. Rather, she wanted to hit someone. Preferably the too-skilled, too-polite Oliver boy.

Instead, she plastered a bland look on her face and allowed her governess to find her wandering between the booths of the fair.

"Kimberly! Where have you been?" Mistress Appleby chided, catching sight of her in the crowd. "I've been looking all over for you! You know it is improper for a young woman to attend the games without a chaperone."

Kimberly lowered her head so Mistress Appleby would not see the way she rolled her eyes. She was likely to be in enough trouble already without appearing to openly flout her governess's authority. "I'm sorry, Mistress Appleby," she said with false innocence. "I stopped to look at one of the stalls when we were walking through the fair this morning, and when I looked back you were gone." She looked up to peer imploringly at the older woman, daring her to call the bluff.

"Thought you'd do some shopping on your own, did you?" Mistress Appleby tutted. "Your father won't be pleased to find you wasting good coin on trifles again, young lady."

"I'm sorry," Kimberly repeated, thinking that her father would be far less angry if Mistress Appleby would not insist on telling him everything his daughter did wrong. "I'll do better next time."

Mistress Appleby leveled a critical look at her. They both knew she had no intention of behaving better in the future, but Mistress Appleby, as always, would have to take her at her word. "So long as you really do try to do better next time," the older woman said reluctantly. "Now come along. You've already missed the first half of the competition."

Missing the boys' competition did not seem like much of a loss to Kimberly, who had experienced it firsthand, but she could not tell Mistress Appleby that.

The governess was a large, strong woman and had little trouble making a path through the crowd. Kimberly kept her mouth shut and followed Mistress Appleby as meekly as she could. It was not long before they reached the ring, where battle still raged, and took their place on a bench near Kimberly's father. Lord Hart did not even glance in their direction.

For once Kimberly did not have to fake interest in the fight. The challenge for boys aged ten to fifteen years was still underway, though the ranks of fighters had dwindled to a scant few. One of the few boys still in the competition, much to Kimberly's annoyance, was the Oliver boy who had beaten her so easily earlier. She had to hide a scowl as he vanquished yet another foe with obvious ease. It would have improved her mood a great deal to see him lose a fight. But the world did not move according to her wishes, and not only did he win his fight, he, unlike her father, noticed her arrival immediately.

While his opponent sulked out of the ring, he looked up and caught sight of her sitting there beside Mistress Appleby and stared. His gaze was so intense now that she feared he must have recognized her as his opponent from before, but if he did he gave no sign of it. Realizing that she was staring right back, she turned her gaze resolutely down at her lap and did her best to keep it there for the rest of the afternoon, until it was finally time to go back into the castle for the night.

The games ended daily at nightfall, but that did not mean the festivities for the day were over. Far from it, in fact. Kimberly enjoyed the night's events as much as she did the day's battles, because nighttime meant feasting and reveling. The post-games parties were the only time Kimberly could freely mingle with other people; it was easy to ditch Mistress Appleby in the crowded feast hall, and then she could slip off to do whatever she pleased.

She had been escaping the watchful eyes of her governess even before she had started taking fighting lessons with Uncle Stephen. By now it was second nature. She just had to find the right opportunity, and then she would be gone before Mistress Appleby realized what was happening.

Sometimes she was lucky and opportunities presented themselves right away. Tonight, she was not lucky. And, worse, everyone was keeping a much closer eye on her than usual, now that she would be reaching womanhood any day now. She hated the polite inquiries about her wellbeing almost as much as she hated the leering, calculating stares. More than anything, she hated being Kimberly, the heir of Torhart.

It was not that she did not like being a lady. In fact, she loved being a lady. She loved the clothes and the glamor, the gossip and the secrets and the intrigue. The problem was that she loved archery and sword-fighting as much as she loved her gowns, and she loved all of those things a good deal more than she liked the idea of being traded off to some wealthy, powerful man in exchange for an alliance to benefit her father and his co-conspirator, the High King. The one saving grace in the whole mess was the King's son, Jason. He was Kimberly's best friend in the whole world; given the choice she would gladly have married him instead of some stranger, but Raynor Scott was not interested in marrying his son to the daughter of Torhart. Not when his alliance with the Harts was already solid and that daughter could be used more advantageously elsewhere, as if she were just some pawn in a board game.

She was infuriated just at the thought, but she hid it well and kept an eye out for a chance to slip away from Mistress Appleby. She might not be able to rebel against whatever marriage her father and the High King would arrange for her in the weeks or months to come, but she could rebel against the smaller injustices, like the way they expected her to be joined at the hip to Mistress Appleby and never have any friends or desires of her own.

Luckily, Jason Scott was well aware of her feelings on the matter, and when she failed to find an excuse to get away from Mistress Appleby, he eventually found his way over to where they were sitting. He was one of the few people she was allowed to interact with, mostly because one did not say no to the crown prince, not even when one was the governess of a high-born young lady.

"Forgive me, Mistress Appleby," he said, plopping himself down on the bench next to Kimberly's governess and doing a very convincing impression of a responsible young man, "but I need to borrow Kimberly for a bit."

Mistress Appleby gave a little scowl, but by now she knew better than to cross Jason. "Of course," she said begrudgingly, "but have her back as soon as you can. Her father doesn't like her running around unsupervised these days."

Jason looked affronted. "Am I not a worthy enough chaperone?"

Kimberly stifled a giggle. Jason stood and offered a hand, which she gladly took. He led her past her unhappy guardian and a gaggle of jealous-looking young women who somehow thought she was a threat to their designs on Jason.

"Thank you," she sighed as soon as they were out of Mistress Appleby's hearing. "She's getting better about not letting me find ways to escape."

He chuckled. "I noticed. Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

She frowned unhappily, because she would have much rather gone off on her own, but went along with him anyway because it was better than going back to Mistress Appleby. That unhappy feeling turned into outright distaste when she caught sight of the last person she wanted to see waiting up ahead of them. She didn't even have to ask to know that Mister Oliver was the mysterious someone that Jason wanted her to meet.

"Jase," she hissed warningly, but Jason knew just as well as she did what had gone on in the fighting ring earlier that afternoon. And unlike her, he didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest. In fact, he practically pulled her along, knowing that she wouldn't protest too hard and risk creating a scene in the middle of the feast hall. "Come on, Jase, I don't like him."

"I'm not asking you to like him," Jason said serenely. "I'm just asking you to say hello so he'll stop bugging me about you."

"What's it to you?" she grumbled.

"He's my friend."

"Since when? The Olivers hate your father. Everyone knows that."

"True, but that doesn't mean they have to hate _me_."

She hated when he had a good point, but she also knew when she was beaten. She would let him have this victory, and she would do him this little favor, as much as it irritated her, because someday he might be able to help her in return. And because someday Jason would be the High King in his father's place, and then there would be no possibility of help, there would be a certainty. A High King even had the power to free a woman from an unwanted marriage, so it only made sense to try to stay on the future King's good side. Even if it meant having to play nice with someone she did not like.

As they drew closer, she realized that not liking the Oliver boy was going to be the hard part. In the fighting ring his helmet had kept his face more or less hidden from view, but he was not wearing his armor now. Now he wore the clothes of a courtier, although they were not as fine and pristine as the clothes that she and Jason wore, and they bore the unfamiliar colors of the Oliver family. It was strange to see Oliver green-and-white in her father's feast hall, but she had to admit, he wore his colors well. Then again, she thought in spite of herself, with a face like that he could probably wear anything well. He was gorgeous, and although he seemed almost unaware of it, Kimberly was suddenly having a hard time not noticing it.

He looked up expectantly as Kimberly and Jason made their way over to where he was sitting.

"Kimberly Hart, this is Thomas Oliver," Jason said when he and Kimberly had finally managed to worm their way into the tiny open space next to where Thomas Oliver was seated. People were pressed all around, but they hardly seemed to notice the intrusion; it did not escape Kimberly's notice that there was really only room enough for one to sit beside the young man.

"You can call me Tommy, if you want," he offered quietly, as if someone that good looking could truly be that shy.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Kimberly replied with what little disdain she could muster. It was very difficult to dislike him, as much as she had initially wanted to. Given the opportunity, she would have been perfectly happy to simply sit there and look at him all night. What in the world had happened to hating him?

In fact, she was no longer quite sure what had happened to anything. Being so close to him, watching him as he watched her, made her feel suddenly flustered, and all of her words deserted her. All of her words, that is, except for _I wish Father would let me marry_ him.

She was immediately horrified at the thought; she had dealt with her share of young warriors before, but she preferred to fight them rather than be courted by them. Certainly none of them had ever made her feel like this, just from being introduced.

"Why don't you sit down, Kim?" Jason suggested. His tone was polite, but she detected a teasing note in there, too. "You look a little lightheaded."

She gave him her fiercest glare, but sat down anyway because she _was_ feeling a bit lightheaded. Jason remained standing, she noted, blocking her and Tommy from Mistress Appleby's view. How convenient. She wondered what sort of game he was playing here.

Focusing on being suspicious about Jason made it easier to ignore how giddy she felt sitting next to Tommy.

"Do you like watching the fighting?" Tommy asked. Typical. During the summer, the games were just about the only thing the men in the castle could seem to talk about.

"No, not really," she replied. "I find it quite boring," she added, stopping just short of admitting that she only found it boring to watch because she preferred to participate.

"So why watch at all?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused.

"I don't have much choice in the matter," she grumbled. "My father insists that I attend."

"You weren't there for the first few rounds," he noted.

Ordinarily Kimberly had a series of rehearsed excuses prepared just for moments like this, but at the moment her mind was not functioning properly. It was still stuck on how good-looking Tommy was. Fortunately, Jason jumped in on her behalf.

"Kim here likes to play 'escape from the governess'," he explained, laughing. "So she can go shopping instead of being forced to watch the men and boys show off all day."

"Unfortunately Mistress Appleby is getting better at catching me," she muttered, flashing Jason a grateful look for his timely intervention.

"Well I'm glad she caught you today," Tommy admitted, "or else I might never have met you."

Kimberly's cheeks burned, and it only got worse when she found herself floundering for something to say. "Oh, I'm sure we would have met anyway," she said, tearing her gaze away from him. "After all, you're here tonight."

"Maybe, but your father wouldn't just let you be introduced to someone like me." By which, of course, he meant that an Oliver was beneath her father's notice, which she knew was true. "If I hadn't seen you earlier, I wouldn't have thought to ask Jason to introduce us."

Jason could hide his amusement no longer. "I may have forgotten to mention that Tommy was smitten at the first sight of you, Kim."

"Thanks a lot." She might grumble about it, but she did feel a little flattered. Between Tommy's good looks and his polite, almost-shy personality, he was actually quite charming when he wasn't beating her in the fighting ring. But what impressed her the most as the night went on was that he didn't just talk to her, he listened to what she had to say, too. In her experience, most men simply wanted her to be silent and listen to how wonderful they were. Despite her earlier reservations, spending the feast-night with him and Jason turned out to be a lot more fun than being forced to sit quietly next to Mistress Appleby all night. She was genuinely regretful when her governess finally came to collect her.

"It is almost midnight, young lady," Mistress Appleby reprimanded as she approached. By that point the crowd in the feast hall had thinned out enough that she could simply storm over and reclaim control of Kimberly. "You should have been in bed an hour ago."

Kimberly sighed and resigned herself to her fate. While Jason apologized to Mistress Appleby for stealing away her charge for so long, she expected an awkward, if cute, "it was nice meeting you" from Tommy. But instead he caught her hand and pressed it between the two of his and, looking her in the eyes, asked, "Will I see you again?"

The intensity of his gaze, and the warmth of his hands around hers, sent a pleasant jolt through her that for a moment left her at a loss for words. Don't just stare, idiot, she thought, for all the good it did her. Say something! Don't just stare and think how pretty his eyes are and wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips and...

"I, uh, well," she answered eloquently. "I'm always here at Torhart."

His smile threatened to dazzle her. She was actually glad when Mistress Appleby pulled her away from him, though she didn't hear a word of her governess's scolding. All she heard was Tommy's voice when he murmured, "Guess I'll just have to come back then."

It wasn't until she was back in her room and tucked into bed for the night that she remembered she'd been trying not to like him.


	2. The Best-Laid Plans

Kimberly hated when her father required her presence. Attending his meetings never resulted in anything good, and in this case the meeting was taking up valuable time she would have much rather spent training with her uncle Stephen. She was never going to have a chance of beating Tommy in the games next year if she didn't get a chance to train... But her father required her presence, as Mistress Appleby kept repeating, and that meant she had no choice.

There would be no dodging of her duties today, no escape from her governess, and no time to keep working with Uncle Stephen. So she put on her best dress, as was required, spent as much time as she dared making herself presentable, and went to the meeting.

She hated the council chamber. It was the biggest room in all of Torhart, and it still felt dark and cold like a cave. Enormous fires burned in even bigger hearths at each end of the room, but the light still seemed unable to penetrate far into the gloom. Worse, today it was filled with more than the usual number of her father's underlings. They all turned to look at she was ushered in, a hundred pairs of greedy, calculating eyes, all focused on her.

"Ah, Kimberly, come forward," her father said.

The sweetness of his tone made her want to do anything but obey, but with Mistress Appleby looming behind her there was nowhere to go but forward. Keeping her eyes firmly on the floor, she walked forward the necessary number of steps and knelt before her father's throne as was proper. "I have come, as you asked me to, Father," she said politely, somehow managing to keep her voice calm.

"Rise," her father bid. She did as she was told. She might rebel against her father's ways in private and in secret, but even she knew not to challenge him publicly. There were lots of people in the court that would love to see her father fall from his place as lord of Torhart, and if he fell... so would she.

Bertran Hart turned to his left then, to speak to someone Kimberly had not noticed before. Or rather, a group of someones. "My daughter, Kimberly," he said conversationally, gesturing toward where she stood before the throne.

Suddenly even more worried than she had been before, Kimberly followed his gaze. A small group of men clustered to her father's left, and all of them were staring straight at her.

"A little on the small side, isn't she?" quipped one. He was old enough to have white hair and wrinkles. The others were not much younger; Kimberly had never seen any of them before.

"But young," one of the others countered. "And pretty enough."

It was all Kimberly could do to keep from screwing her face up into a scowl. She had inherited her small stature from her mother, Lissa, who had been, in Kimberly's opinion, the most beautiful woman in the whole world. And she herself was certainly better looking than simply 'pretty enough'.

The old men conferred amongst themselves. After they had come to a consensus, the first man spoke again. "The man who marries her will be lord of Torhart," he said. He did not voice it at a question, though it clearly was. Kimberly felt her heart drop as the man's gaze turned sly. "You are young yet, my lord. You may sire other children."

"She is my heir," Bertran countered irritably. "I will honor my contract with Lissa."

Kimberly had to bite her lip to keep from asking what he meant. Contract? No one had ever mentioned any sort of contract between her parents, beyond the standard agreement that was necessary any time two powerful houses were joined by a marriage alliance.

"Then the matter is settled," the old man said, though his tone suggested otherwise. Bertran gave no sign that he was pleased or displeased, but instead directed the conversation toward matters of trade.

Kimberly waited patiently, but no one made any move to dismiss her or include her in the conversation. It was infuriating, to have the sinking feeling that her fate was in the balance, yet to be told nothing of what was going on. To be forced to be present, yet excluded. To be so very angry and yet be unable to do the slightest thing about it, lest she risk her father's disgrace.

So she stood there, uncomfortably conscious of Mistress Appleby's stern presence behind her, and tried her very best to be patient. Her father did not seem to notice. She began to fear that he would make her stay for the entire meeting, but he finally did decide that she had suffered enough.

"Oh, and Kimberly, we're done with you," he said off-handedly several minutes later, as if he had just realized that she had not stormed off yet. "This is none of your concern. Go on now."

"Yes, Father," she said with a forced smile. It was all she could do not to run as fast as she could out of the council room, but somehow she managed to walk the whole way.

As soon as Mistress Appleby had followed her out of the council room and shut the door behind them, Kimberly whirled. "Who were those men?" she hissed.

Mistress Appleby did not look pleased. Kimberly wondered whether it was her tone or her question that was not appreciated, then decided she did not care.

"They were men of the Skullovitch clan," the governess explained.

Kimberly frowned. "I've never even heard of them."

"They're mountain men. From Courch."

This time Kimberly nearly cringed. "Courch? But... I can't marry into a family from _Courch_! There's nothing there! Just rocks and mountains and, and creepy old men!"

"Kimberly!" Mistress Appleby's tone suggested that she would be in a great deal of trouble if she did not heed her governess. "Mind yourself."

"It's true," she pouted.

"Courch also sits on top of the largest veins of iron in the land."

"And Father wants the iron, doesn't he?" Kimberly asked glumly.

"That's none of our business, Kimberly."

"If he's marrying me off to get it, it is too my business!"

"He is not 'marrying you off'. He is making an alliance with Courch that will be made permanent when a suitable match is found for you. Your father would not force you to marry a man you found distasteful." Mistress Appleby fixed her with a look that said there would be no more discussion of this topic now, or ever. As far as Mistress Appleby was concerned, Bertran Hart's word was law. As far as Kimberly was concerned, Bertran Hart was a heartless jerk who did not care one bit for his daughter's happiness.

Suddenly, she needed to get out of Torhart, at least for a little while. Until her temper cooled enough that she wasn't tempted to murder her father. "I'm going riding," she informed Mistress Appleby. It was a challenge; she knew how much her governess hated horses. Riding was one of the few things she was usually allowed to do unescorted.

"Kimberly," her governess cautioned, "don't do anything rash."

"I'm not going to run away, I just need to breathe."

For an instant she almost thought Mistress Appleby looked sympathetic, but then the usual stern look replaced it and she knew she must have imagined it. "All right. But be back before nightfall. And don't stray too far from the Tor."

Kimberly did her best not to stare. She'd expected to have to fight tooth and nail to be allowed out of Torhart now that she was promised to the Courchmen. Maybe she hadn't imagined that look of sympathy on her governess's face, after all.

Just in case Mistress Appleby might reconsider, Kimberly took off. Her first stop was her own chamber, where she quickly changed into proper riding attire, and then she headed for the stables. Most girls her age weren't allowed near the horses, but Kimberly was the lord's daughter and sometimes that did have its benefits.

A short while later, she had appropriated her favorite horse and was on her way out of the castle. At first she thought she would go into town and spend some of her father's money at the market, but the thought of being around people quickly lost its appeal. She wanted to be alone; she wanted to be _free_. So as soon as she was free of the castle gates and more or less out of sight, she headed off the main road and into the countryside.

The air was crisp around her in the late-autumn chill. She liked it; the coldness in the air echoed the feelings in her heart. There was no one else on the little side-track she had chosen, and she was glad for that, too. In the castle she was closely watched, and never seemed to have a private moment. She always had to hide her feelings. It took all of her ingenuity to continue her lessons with her uncle, and that was getting more and more difficult. At this point, she thought glumly, it might even be impossible.

At least here, where there was no one else but her horse to see, she could sigh and let her frustration show. She hated the thought of having to set her hopes and dreams aside - permanently - and become wife to some awful mountain man. But so far as she could see, she had little choice in the matter. She had no real power, not even her own servants to command.

She had been meandering down the trail, lost in her own thoughts, for a little over a mile when she heard the sound of horses approaching from behind. The sound startled her. She had thought she was completely alone, but obviously she had been wrong.

She turned in her saddle to look and was surprised to see a pair of men bearing down on her quite quickly, galloping across the fairly level and open countryside she had been crossing. Their faces were obscured by distance, but she did not immediately recognize the colors they wore. They could have been anyone... bandits or brigands, or mercenaries employed by her father's enemies. Her heart raced in her chest.

She thought about making a break for the forest to her left, but knew she wouldn't reach it in time. Even if she did, she knew it wouldn't take long for them to catch her. And in her anger she hadn't thought to bring along her bow or arrows. Still, not wishing to be caught too easily, she urged her horse to pick up the pace.

It was not enough.

Moments later, the riders were upon her. They charged up on either side of her, and the one to her left, cloaked by a thick cape of plain brown wool, seized her by the shoulders and attempted to drag her from her horse. Kimberly had never been forcibly unseated from her horse before, and she did not intend to let that happen now. She fought hard, but he already had a hold on her and he was much bigger than she was. Her strength was not in brute force, but in speed and agility.

She was pleased, however, that by the time he had managed to get her untangled from her saddle, she had wriggled out of his grip. It was not the most dignified escape of her life, but now he would have to catch her again. And that gave her a chance, however small, to get away. She turned her awkward landing into an awkward roll, was on her feet again before he realized what had happened, and bolted around behind his horse, heading for the treeline.

He would have to maneuver the animal around to follow her, and that would buy her a few seconds. Her breath came hard as she ran faster than she ever had before, hoping by some miracle to escape. But she knew, even as she attempted it that it was a foolish hope. She had no chance against two determined men on horseback.

One of them shouted something at her, something that sounded almost like laughter, but the sound was lost in the rush of wind as she ran.

She had not even made it halfway to the relative safety of the trees when the man caught up and made another grab for her. This time he was taking no chances, and practically dove out of his saddle in order to catch her. They tumbled to the ground together, Kimberly gasping breathlessly as his arm around her middle forced all the air from her lungs.

When they finally stopped moving, she was pinned beneath him. A few tentative struggles told her she wasn't going to escape easily, either.

Heart pounding, she forced herself to open her eyes - which she had squeezed shut during the fall and not opened since - to look her would-be captor in the eye. He wouldn't know that she still had a knife hidden at her belt, much less that she knew how to use it, and boldness might buy her some time. If she could get her hands free long enough, anyway. But all thoughts of fighting her way free went right out of her head when she looked at his face. The concealing hood of his cloak was in disarray after the fall, and now she could see that her captor was none other than... "Tommy?"

Recognizing him did little to slow her heart's frantic racing. If anything, his presence made it worse. She could feel her face growing warm, and imagined it turning red as a beet and wanted nothing more than to hide.

"Hey, Kimberly," Tommy said a bit sheepishly as his compatriot rode back over.

Sure enough, his companion was none other than Jason Scott. And he was laughing. "You should have seen the look on your face!"

"Very funny," Kimberly muttered, scowling even as Tommy gingerly got off of her and helped her get back on her feet. At least now he and Jason might be tricked into thinking the redness of her face was from anger, rather than the blush of infatuation. "I hope you're planning on helping me find my horse again."

"Of course," Tommy said. Not that he had much choice, since he'd lost his own horse when he tackled her to the ground.

They rounded up the wayward animals, then returned to the path and continued on, at a much more reasonable pace, in the direction Kimberly had been heading before being so rudely interrupted. Jason led the way, while Tommy and Kimberly trailed behind. She couldn't resist asking, "What are you two doing out here, anyway?"

"We were in the neighborhood," Jason said as if it were perfectly normal for the high prince to be wandering around near her father's castle.

"We were heading for Torhart," Tommy said, giving Jason an irritated glance. "And we saw you heading off this way. Jase thought you could use a little cheering up."

"So you decided to pretend to kidnap me. Wow, thanks," Kimberly said dryly. She didn't want to admit it, but she was glad to have run into the two of them. At least they treated her like she was a person, instead of just ordering her around and expecting her to be the very picture of a perfect lady. And they weren't trying to make her get married.

"I know how you've always wanted to be a damsel in distress," Jason teased.

Kimberly rolled her eyes. She liked being a lady. That didn't mean she liked being helpless, and he knew it. Tommy, on the other hand, looked a little concerned. She gave him a wry look and loudly asked, "Has anyone told you lately that you're an idiot, Jase?"

Tommy chuckled.

Jason looked over his shoulder to say, "That's what I have you for, Kim."

She stuck out her tongue at him, and for a moment it seemed as if they were carefree children again. For the rest of the afternoon, they wandered across the countryside, chatting idly and exploring the land just as she and Jason had done together as children. For that short span of time, she could almost forget that her troubles would be waiting for her as soon as she went home.

It wasn't until she was in her chamber that night, getting ready for bed, that she realized she'd never thought to ask why they had been heading for Torhart in the first place.

She did not have much time to wonder about that, though. With winter approaching, and the new year with it, the betrothal negotiations grew more and more intense. And time consuming.

Kimberly spent the next few months enduring not just the dullness of late autumn and winter, but a veritable parade of suitors sent by the Skullovitch men. The worst of her fears abated somewhat as she gradually realized that part of her father's contract with her mother, whatever that had been, required him to allow her to choose her own husband. He could dictate the clan into which she would marry, but he could not force her to marry a man she hated.

But that was small comfort when she did not like any of the Skullovitches. Most of them were far older than her, and even the ones that were closer to her age were hopelessly awkward in their attempts to win her over. Apparently her father was not the only one that stood to gain from marrying her off, but at least for now she could use that to her advantage. It was not that difficult to make them squabble amongst themselves, and then the talks of marriage would cease for a while until they had sorted themselves out again.

But strangely enough, she often had another guest during those quiet times while the Skullovitch men were arguing amongst themselves. She had not really expected to see him again until the next summer games, if at all, but Tommy Oliver had developed a habit of showing up at Torhart at the oddest of times. Such as today, as she left the council room in exasperation and nearly ran right into him.

She had caught him lurking about, or training with the men in the yard, more than once over the past few months, but still for a long moment all she could do was stare at him.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," he commented, giving her a charming smile.

"We're not exactly used to seeing Olivers skulking about our halls," she retorted, but not as harshly as she might have. She was happy to see him, after all.

Realizing where she had just come from, he seemed a bit surprised. "Your father includes you in his council?"

"No." She sighed and started off down the hall again. As far as she was concerned, the more distance between herself and her father and her still-squabbling suitors, the better. Tommy fell into step beside her. "Marriage negotiations."

"Oh." He sounded so gloomy that she wondered if maybe there was something to all the rumors that said he only came to Torhart as often as he did for a chance to see her. She had done her best to ignore those rumors, to remain serious and focus on choosing a husband from the Skullovitch clan, but today she couldn't shake the thought that Tommy did keep coming to Torhart for her. And she couldn't stop her heart from beating a little faster just from thinking about it, nor from sneaking glances at him as they walked.

In fact, she could hardly stop thinking about it. If only she could have married Tommy... Tommy, who spoke to her as if she were his equal, who had actually taken the time to get to know her without any ulterior motive, who made excuses to come to Torhart just to see her... Tommy, who was also impossibly good looking, exactly the kind of man she had always imagined herself marrying one day. She sighed dreamily.

Tommy must have misinterpreted the sigh, because the next thing he said was, "You don't seem too excited about the idea."

"I'm not," she admitted. He started to say something else, but she couldn't stop the words from pouring out, now that someone was finally willing to listen. "My father has picked several suitors for me, but I can't stand any of them. I wish I could choose who I will marry, instead of having to choose the least awful option and knowing that every last one of them only cares about getting Torhart when my father is dead, and doesn't care about me at all!"

Tommy looked momentarily taken aback by this outburst. Kimberly felt a twinge of regret at having been so outspoken. He was a man grown, or very nearly, and a warrior at that; of course he didn't care about these things. And now he was going to think she was just a silly girl...

"Kim..." he murmured. Her fingers brushed against his as they walked, or maybe it was the other way around. "I'm sorry."

"Maybe I'll just run away," she said, pouting.

Tommy laughed. "And what would you do then, sign on as a mercenary for the High King?"

"No," she muttered. His idea might be ridiculous, but it held a certain appeal. "I'd go far away, to someplace where I could decide my own fate. I can hunt, you know. I'm good with a bow. I could get by without anyone else at all."

He did not seem to believe her, but she let it go. There would be no point in insisting, no matter how much she might wish for freedom.

As winter turned into spring, Kimberly saw Tommy several more times. His visits were not regular, but at least one day in seven he would turn up somewhere in Torhart. It seemed like he always showing up where and when she least expected him, like at the winter solstice feast, and he was always unfailingly charming and kind. He even listened to her growing list of woes as her inevitable betrothal drew nearer, and never once complained about it.

He had to know by now that he was a most unwelcome visitor in Torhart, since it was no secret that the lord of Torhart had no love for the Olivers, but he kept coming anyway. And his presence was one of the few things that could brighten Kimberly's days. It was so much more pleasant to spend time with Tommy, in fact, that she soon started devising all new ways of slipping away from Mistress Appleby in order to be alone with him.

It wasn't until the day of her official betrothal that she realized the trap she had walked into, all unknowing. She looked at herself in the mirror, wearing her finest gown and with her hair ornately braided, and wished for Tommy to be at her side. She wished for his support, to help her stand strong against her father.

For the thousandth time, she wished that Tommy could have been her betrothed.

Only this time, she realized it wasn't because Tommy represented an escape from her father's plans, or even just because of his dashing good looks. It was because she wanted to spend every moment of every day with him, for the rest of her life. She wanted him to make her smile, she wanted to make him laugh. She wanted to kiss him, to hold him, to be with him as his wife.

Somewhere along the way, she had fallen in love with him.


	3. Twisted and Broken

The day Kimberly's father announced his daughter's betrothal to Eugene Skullovitch, Kimberly slipped away early from the betrothal feast and met with her uncle. Her skin still crawling from being forced to sit for hours beside her intended husband, she had only one thing to say: "I want to keep training with you."

Her uncle put a stern look on his face. "Kimberly, you are a woman grown. You are promised in marriage -"

"I know. I know all of that," she told him. "And I still want to compete in the summer games, if I can." Stephen sighed, a sign that she was getting through. So she kept pushing. "This is going to be my last games. I'm to be married at the end of the festivities. Please, just let me have this one last bit of freedom."

Like magic, he relented. "All right. If you can get away from your governess, I will work with you for an hour or two each night. But I can promise no more than that."

She could not hide her joy. "Thank you, Uncle Stephen! I won't let you down!"

He chuckled. "Do you think I would agree to train you if I thought there was a chance you would disappoint me?"

For the remainder of the winter and all the way through spring, Kimberly trained with her uncle Stephen in secret. Because their training sessions were short, they were also intense, leaving her sore and exhausted all through the next day. But as the weeks crept by, she could feel her muscles beginning to regain the strength and skill they had lost during the autumn.

At first she was terrified that Mistress Appleby would catch her, and that would be the end of her hopes, but if the governess ever caught on, she never said a word to anyone about it. If anything, she now seemed more inclined than ever before to let Kimberly do as she pleased. Maybe, since Kimberly's days of freedom were running out, Mistress Appleby was sympathetic to her willful ways.

It should have made her at least a little happier, but the truth was, between her extra lessons with her uncle and the time she was expected to spend getting to know her future husband, she hardly got to see Tommy at all. And the less she got to see him, the more it seemed he was on her mind.

As midsummer drew nearer and nearer, Tommy all but disappeared from Torhart, too. She supposed he had his own problems to worry about, but still, she missed him.

Instead of moping, she trained even harder. It helped somewhat to take out her anger and frustration on her uncle and his training dummies.

It was after one of her more intense training sessions, squeezed into the middle of the day, that she finally ran into Tommy again. She had just left the training hall, which was empty for the midday meal, when he appeared as if by magic directly in front of her. She was immediately conscious of the lingering sweat from her practice and the way she was still breathing hard from the exertion. Worse, Tommy noticed.

His expression was full of concern. "Are you okay?"

"Just trying to get away from my governess," she lied, looking around as if she expected to be followed. It sounded hollow to her ears, but he seemed to believe it.

"So, what's going on?" he asked, falling into step beside her.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm getting married in two months."

"You sound overjoyed. Who's the lucky husband-to-be?"

She sighed. "Eugene Skullovitch. I don't even _like_ him!"

"Him? But he's..." Tommy paused, then settled for, "not a very good leader."

"Oh, Father knows that. But he's a follower. And Father wants an heir that he can control completely, so that makes him perfect." Especially in comparison to Kimberly, who resisted her father's plans at every turn.

"Kim, I'm sorry," Tommy said earnestly. She looked at him, caught his gaze, and could not seem to look away. "You deserve better than that."

 _Take me with you, when you go,_ she thought fervently, but she knew it would never work. At best, everyone at Torhart would consider it kidnapping. And at worst it could start a war. Abruptly, for the very first time, she realized that _she_ had the power to undo everything the High King and his cronies had been working for. All she had to do was not cooperate.

The thought thrilled and terrified her.

What _would_ happen if she disobeyed her father? Could she live with herself if she were responsible for starting a war?

She didn't think so, but it was a thought that was on her mind often over the next few weeks. Those weeks led up to the start of the summer games... and the end of her freedom. She had almost no time to train for the games, between the marriage preparations and Mistress Appleby's newly reinvigorated supervision. The latter was one more thing Kimberly hated about the Skullovitch men. As more and more of them had poured into Torhart, rumors had started to circulate, rumors about Kimberly and Tommy. Rumors that said she spent far too much time unsupervised with men who were not her betrothed, and might not be trusted to come pure to her marriage bed.

As if.

So she put up with Mistress Appleby and everything else and forced a smile onto her face the entire time, but her thoughts were on the battlefield. And as soon as she got a chance, as soon as the time had come for the battles in her age bracket, Kimberly slipped away. In secret she donned her old leather armor, knowing that this would be the very last time she wore it, and strode out to do battle in the games.

She lined up with the others in her age group and prepared her mind for battle. Uncle Stephen looked very worried, and kept shooting glances her way, but no one else seemed to have recognized her. She knew it was reckless and wished at least her uncle would try to understand. She loved doing this, and this was the last time she was going to get a chance to do it. At the end of the games, she would be married, and then she would be expected to do nothing but produce sons.

Fear for the future and disgust at its limited prospects distracted her so much that she almost missed hearing which opponent she'd been assigned to. It was a good thing she already knew who it would be: Tommy. She'd asked Uncle Stephen for a rematch last year, and he'd not forgotten.

When her turn came, she took her place opposite Tommy in the ring and was pleased when he failed to recognize her, although she supposed the helmet she wore had more to do with that than anything else. They bowed respectfully to one another, as custom required, and then the fight began. Although she had not had as much time to practice as she had hoped, she had a better idea of how Tommy fought than she had last year.

She set aside her distractions and fears, giving her full attention over to her fight. She wasn't even sure, anymore, why she wanted so badly to beat Tommy in this fight. He was one of the few people she could actually call "friend," and numbered among the only people that were willing to listen to her and treat her as an equal rather than as a pawn.

They fought for several minutes as Tommy carefully tried to assess her skill and she tried to give nothing away. She met him blow for blow with the sword, focusing on countering his attacks rather than making her own as she waited for an opening. And then finally, there it was.

She twisted past a strong strike, recalling exactly how she'd lost this fight last year. This time, she knew it for a ploy and was ready for his next move. She ducked low, too low for him to easily grab, and hooked a leg behind his knee and knocked him off his feet. She was on him almost before he hit the ground, her practice blade at his throat to keep him from struggling because she was too small to effectively pin him.

The seconds slid painfully by.

His brow furrowed as he stared up into her face. "Who are you?" he asked.

In that horrifying moment she knew he had recognized her. She shook her head. He didn't ask again, but she could tell that he knew.

When her uncle announced her the victor, she all but ran from the ring. She could scarcely believe that she had advanced in the games and suddenly wasn't sure what to do. If her father and his men hadn't noticed her absence yet, they would soon. She would be expected to be in attendance on the second half of the day's fighting.

She tried to get lost in the throng beyond the fighting rings, but Tommy followed her doggedly. "Wait!" he called.

She ignored him for as long as she could, but he was drawing too much attention. "What do you want?" she asked, doing her best to disguise her voice.

"Who are you? I know I've seen you somewhere before."

"You beat me last year," she informed him.

He shook his head. "That's not it."

She shrugged. "It's not my problem."

She had to get rid of him somehow so she could change back into her dress. In the end, it was safer to go back to being Kimberly than to try to win the games. If the mysterious boy who had beaten Tommy simply disappeared, the games would go on without a hitch.

"I want to fight you again," Tommy said as she started to leave. "Please. Nobody's gotten past me like that before. I want to know how you did it."

"You mean aside from the fact that you used the same strategy two years in a row?"

He grimaced. "Yeah."

She couldn't resist. "Okay."

She led him to a place she knew behind a copse of trees near the edge of the festival that cropped up around the games every year. It was a small rocky field, of little use for anything, that tended to be empty. Kimberly had practiced her archery there for years, aiming at small targets placed among the trees, but it was also serviceable as a training ground for swordplay.

"Same rules as the games," she said gruffly as she wheeled to stand opposite Tommy in the middle of the roughly circular clearing.

He nodded, but he still looked like he was trying to figure out who this mysterious boy was.

She didn't want him to figure it out, so she drew her sword and said, "When you're ready."

They took their time sparring this time, testing techniques they hadn't been bold enough to use in the ring earlier. It was enjoyable, even fun. Kimberly spent most of her time practicing on dummies - or trees or furniture - seldom getting the opportunity to spar against a living opponent that was not her uncle. This fight made the sneaking around and the training worth it, more than anything else had. She truly regretted that this would be the end of her fighting, but she was glad she could share that with Tommy even if he had no idea.

Tommy's attacks came harder and faster now, pressing her hard to keep up. And she was tiring, her lack of practice becoming obvious the longer they fought. She had to find a way to end it soon if she wanted to win. But Tommy knew better than to give her the same opening again. He was more cautious this time, and harder to read.

He slashed at her three times in quick succession, sending her stumbling backward and scrabbling to defend herself. The next time he managed to strike her sword from her hand, leaving her defenseless. She could dive for the blade, but she would be leaving herself wide open from behind. Her only choice was to surrender, or...

She gave a shout and dove for him. He wasn't expecting such folly, and she slammed into him full force. They tumbled to the ground together, wrestling as she tried to pin him down and he tried to get free of her. He sputtered and swore. She couldn't help it: she laughed. And forgot to disguise her voice.

Tommy stopped struggling and stared in horror. "Who are you?" he demanded.

This time she knew there was no way out. She let him go and pulled her helmet off.

He choked as her long hair spilled from beneath the helmet and he saw her face undisguised. "You're... you're _Kimberly_!"

"Well, _duh_."

"Girls don't fight in the games!" he announced.

"Well they _should_ ," Kimberly retorted.

He actually stopped to think about that before asking, "Why?"

Kimberly smirked. "I kicked your butt twice today, didn't I?"

He looked distinctly displeased by her answer, but instead of getting angry, he agreed with her. "Fair enough." He didn't even sound begrudging when he said it. Kimberly's heart gave a little flutter. She climbed off him and offered him a hand, which he accepted.

"My father forbid me from learning how to fight," she admitted, "but my uncle is the arms-master and he gave me lessons anyway. If my father knew what I've been doing, I'd be in big trouble. That's why I have to disguise myself and pretend to be a boy."

"You shouldn't have to pretend to be a boy just to be yourself."

She couldn't resist a smile, but then doubt began to set in. "You're taking this awfully well."

"It never really occurred to me before now that there might be things my little sisters want to do, but won't ever be allowed to even try," he admitted. "I get to do whatever I want... why don't they? Why do girls have to just sit around waiting to be married?"

"I've wondered about that a thousand times, myself."

"It's stupid!" he declared, as if he were the first person to realize that.

But because he actually _had_ realized that, unlike everyone else in Torhart, she chose to ignore the ridiculousness of his revelation. "Yes."

He took his helmet off, a smart choice in the sweltering heat, so he could look at her face to face. Bedraggled as he was from their sparring, he was still beautiful in her eyes. She wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss him. And this time, despair and desperation made her bold.

"You shouldn't have to give up swordplay," he was saying. She closed the distance between them and kissed him full on the lips.

It took him a long time to figure out what was going on and to respond the way she wanted, but he did. He did, and it was _glorious_.

For a few seconds, everything was right with the world.

And then Mistress Appleby shrieked, "Kimberly!"

Kimberly turned in horror. It was worse than she'd feared. Mistress Appleby was not alone. Her father was there, and he looked utterly furious. His loyal lackeys and the delegates from Courch were there as well, but it was her father that worried her.

It was too late to run; her father practically pounced on her, gripping her hard by the shoulders. Fury was written plainly all over his face.

"Kimberly," he snarled warningly, his voice more terrifying than anything she had ever heard before. "I knew you were flawed, but this is too much." He said more, but she did not hear. Her head was ringing from the force of the tremendous slap he'd given her, a blow that sent her to her knees. She tasted copper, wavered, and would have fallen over if her father had not grabbed her again and hauled her to her feet.

Before she could even regain her balance, he had shoved her to his guardsmen. She stumbled and fell on her face in the dirt.

Everything after that was little more than a blur. The guardsmen carried her because she was too stunned to get up and walk on her own. She was escorted to her room where she was ordered to attire herself properly as befit her rank as daughter of Torhart. And when she was done, to her utter disbelief, they actually took her to the dungeon. It was little more than a pit beneath the main tor that made up Torhart, which could be closed off by a gate of metal bars, but it served its purpose well enough.

The men did not bother to escort her beyond the entrance, but merely flung the gate open and hurled her inside. She tumbled to the bottom and lay still in the dark, crying silently and imagined her father spitting curses into the blackness at her. She had been a fool to think she could somehow ever make her father see things her way. He would never, ever accept her as something other than a bargaining chip in his plays for power. He would never see that she was more than just a vessel for his ambitions.

She did not know how long she lay there, curled on her side and wondering who - or what - else might be down there in the dark with her, but it seemed an eternity. She wondered where Tommy was, and what horrible punishment her father might have devised for him. She wondered if she would ever see him again, and decided that it was unlikely. All her hopes had unraveled around her at once. She would be forbidden her bow and sword, would be locked in her room if she were ever released from this pit. She might have tarnished her reputation so far as to not be suitable even for marriage anymore. There was nothing left. And so she thought that nothing could rouse her, but to her surprise, something eventually did.

"Kimberly," a voice hissed. Even in a whisper, she recognized that voice.

"Tommy," she breathed. She practically flew up the steps to clutch Tommy's hand through the bars of her prison. "How?" she asked, scarcely daring to believe he was really there.

"Jason's creating a distraction for me," he admitted. "Your father tried to have me arrested for corrupting you, but no one will argue with the Prince. Well, they're trying. But I don't think they'll try too hard and risk his father's wrath."

Kimberly managed to smile. It paid to have allies in high places sometimes. "Can you get me out?"

He shook his head. "Not tonight." He glanced fleetingly over his shoulder, gripping her hand tighter. "But I'm going to come for you tomorrow. I'm... I'm going to ask your father for your hand in marriage. I want to marry you, Kimberly. 'Flaws' and all."

She gasped in surprise. Her father would never agree, but it touched her heart that Tommy would dare to ask anyway. "Tommy..."

"I know, he'll never say yes," he admitted. "But I have to try. I can't just leave you like this. I can't let him take you away from me."

She murmured his name again and wished there weren't metal bars between them. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him, or better yet, to run away with him to somewhere far enough away that her father would never find her. He was one of the very few people who had ever stood up for her; until quite recently she had always had to stand up for herself. And since her father refused to see the value in a woman, beyond her ability to bear children, that had not worked out very well.

If only Tommy had been from a different family. If only her father were willing to see reason.

Kimberly sighed and promised herself she would not cry. Things might seem hopeless now, but she was not defeated yet. She still had Tommy and Jason, and her own determination. "You should go now," she said. "Jason can't keep my father and his men distracted forever."

"I don't want to leave you."

"And I don't want you thrown in the dungeon."

"At least you wouldn't be lonely that way."

"Please, like my father would put us in the same dungeon."

He smiled faintly, then kissed his fingers and reached through the bars to press them against her cheek. "I will return," he promised.

"I know," she said, trying very hard to keep the promise she'd made herself. A moment later she was alone in the dark. She didn't even hear footsteps as Tommy crept away, but when she was certain he was gone she slipped back down the stairs and into her prison.

After Tommy left she had little to do but wait for the rest of the night. She even dozed a bit, toward the end. But it was all in vain, for at the first light of dawn her father came for her.

He did not even allow her the dignity of walking on her own, but seized her by the arm and all but dragged her out of the dungeon after him. As she struggled to understand why there was a cart just outside the gate at the top of the stairs, her father shoved her toward two waiting men. One of them held her tightly while the other clamped manacles on her wrists; horrified, she realized that the cuffs were chained to the cart.

"Father..." she began, her voice trembling.

"Silence!" he ordered.

She was silent.

"Since you will not behave as befits your name and your station," her father went on, "you have given me no choice."

She realized abruptly: he was sending her away. He was sending her away before Tommy could save her. He would not even know she was gone until it was too late. And her father might have already guessed his intentions... Tommy might walk right into a trap, and there would be nothing she could do to save him.

"Father, no," she pleaded, unable to keep silent any longer. "Don't do this."

"I commanded your silence."

"Please, I'll be good. I promise! I'll do anything you ask, just don't send me away! Don't -" She cut herself off before she could plead for him not to harm Tommy. If he had not already guessed Tommy's role in her continued defiance, she did not want to give anything away that might put Tommy at risk.

Her father had no further time for her anyway. "Take her," he said to the men, who had returned to wait by their cart after shackling her.

The two men obeyed without a word, seizing her roughly and throwing her into the back of the cart in spite of her protestations. She was too small and only one against the two of them; they had no problem subduing her or locking her into the cart. She lay where she had fallen and told herself she would not cry as the cart creaked and dipped and began to move.

As the day wore on it became swelteringly hot and since the cart was empty except for her, it was also uncomfortable. She was forced to lie or sit on the bare wood as the cart jounced up and down along some ill-paved road. She wished she could see outside or at least get a glimpse of her surroundings, but her father had made sure she was sealed up tight. He had guessed, and rightly so, that she would attempt to escape at the first opportunity.

And once Tommy made his bid for her hand in marriage, she knew with a gloomy certainty, her father would know exactly where she would run to if she did manage to escape. No matter what happened now, she was trapped.

Kimberly's heart raced as the cart suddenly ground to a halt. She wasn't sure how long they had been traveling, but it had been growing dark for some time now. She listened hard for voices outside the cart, but all was silent. Her heart seemed to leap into her throat; had her father sent his men to kill her? She didn't think he was that ruthless, but she had been wrong before.

When she heard footsteps coming round the side of the cart, she crept as far toward the door as she dared. When they opened it, _if_ they opened it, surprise might be her only advantage. Her father's men were bigger and stronger than she was, and with her hands shackled like this she couldn't fight very well, so she would have to rely on her speed to get away from them. She wasn't sure she could do it, but she was sure that it was better than meekly accepting whatever punishment was waiting for her. She had to at least _try_.

The men outside the cart paused for a while at the back, but they did not open the door. Instead, Kimberly could hear them conversing with someone. It sounded like they were talking to a woman.

"Her father thinks maybe this'll teach her," one of the men said, laughing loudly.

There came the click of a lock and the sound of a chain being removed, and then the man pulled the door open. Kimberly sprang out the moment she saw the door move, but the man outside was ready and waiting for this kind of thing. He caught her by the waist as she attempted to worm her way out over his shoulder, and didn't let go no matter how fiercely she pummeled him with her hands and feet. She fought as hard as she could, but he just laughed and easily pinned her against him.

"Sorry, little lady," he said, sounding far too amused for her taste, "but I've got orders. And I'd like to keep my head, thank ya very much."

"Just let me go," Kimberly insisted. "Please, he never has to find out."

"I'm sure he'd know if I let ya go."

Kimberly sighed and stopped fighting him. There was no sense wasting energy when he had her trapped.

"That's better."

She pouted as he hauled her around the cart and let out a startled "oof!" as he heaved her suddenly onto the ground."Here ya go, she's all yours."

Kimberly was pretty sure that the sudden fall had jarred every bone in her body, but when she realized what her father's man had just said, she scrambled to her knees and whirled around to see who he was talking to. Mud squelched sickeningly beneath her, and she could feel unpleasant dampness creeping in where her fine skirts were pressed into the ground. But that was the least of her worries.

She looked up in terror at the three women who stared impassively down at her, as if they did not care in the least that the heir of Torhart was on her knees in the mud. All of them wore austere garb made from coarse wool, dirt stained and worn from hard work, but that was where the similarities ended. One of them was grey-haired and wrinkled, wizened with her age; one was still in the prime of her life, though her disapproving frown made her intimidating; the third was a girl of about Kimberly's age, with long black hair and dark, sympathetic eyes.

Crone, mother, maiden. Three women; three aspects of the mother Goddess. The last of Kimberly's hope died at the sight of them.

Her father had sent her to a convent.


End file.
